


The Queen Bee

by Ashfae



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Grimm's Fairy Tales
Genre: 'bout time that name was literal, Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley are terrible at their jobs, Aziraphale and Crowley as chaotic fairy tale guides, Aziraphale as a tree, Community: Do It With Style Events, Crowley as a crow, Fairy Tale Curses, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Retellings, M/M, Other, Shapeshifting, he's not pining he's really a tree
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:02:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29207049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashfae/pseuds/Ashfae
Summary: In which Aziraphale and Crowley, in various guises, attempt to guide three princes towards the rescue of three maidens in a cursed castle.Things don't exactly go according to plan.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19
Collections: Do It With Style Good Omens Reverse Bang





	The Queen Bee

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the DIWS Reverse Bang 2021, and is inspired by art made by the terrific [Foxleycrow](https://foxleycrow.tumblr.com/)/[Grond](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grond/pseuds/Grond), which is included in the chapter. I hope you find it as enchanting as I did. =) The story is based on the Grimm's fairy tale _The Queen Bee_ , which I've modified somewhat for the purpose.

Crowley stalked through the forest. Less knowledgeable people might have claimed he was stomping like a toddler in a bad mood, but they would be greatly mistaken. Crowley was a demon, and demons didn't stomp. Or have tantrums. But stalking, that was entirely in line with his _milieu_. 

It wasn't a dark and gloomy forest, but only because it was still mid-afternoon; by evening the forest would be dark and gloomy enough to serve as a backdrop for even the most expert of stalking evil demonic types, which suited him perfectly. He was in a bad mood and wanted to be Somewhere Else, preferably Somewhere Else That Would Serve Alcohol in Large Amounts, and until he got there some dramatic scenery was welcome.

And the forest was a little dark, full of old trees with gnarled knots in the trunks, dark brown and wide and ancient.

With one exception.

It was astonishing enough an exception to catch Crowley's attention despite his stalk-y mood. In a forest of bent over, wizened trees, mostly beeches and maples, stood one that was tall, straight, and white. And surprisingly...familiar.

Crowley stared at it for a few minutes, then approached.

It looked like a tree. A tree largely out of place in this particular forest, but nonetheless, a tree.

He walked around it. 

He walked around it again.

After the third time circling the tree, Crowley raised the dark lenses that covered his eyes, frowning up at the trunk. "'Zat you, Aziraphale?"

The tree's branches shivered as though in the wind, though the air was still. Crowley poked at the trunk, his face scrunched up in perplexity.

The bark of the tree gradually began to move into a spiral-shape that formed a face, then a whole head, one Crowley found blessedly[1] familiar. At first the tree's expression was irritated, but once he glanced down and saw who was prodding his bark[2] he abruptly smiled. "Crowley! Whatever are you doing here?"

"Here--what am _I_ doing here? What are _you_ doing here?" Crowley spread his arms as though to indicate the entire forest. "Or maybe more specifically, what are you doing _in there_? I've seen you in some interesting outfits over the centuries, but white birch is new and unexpected." 

"Oh, well..." Aziraphale glanced away, pursing his lips. "Nothing much. Just...having a little rest, is all."

Crowley raised an eyebrow.

Aziraphale didn't fidget, but his branches shivered again.

Crowley's eyebrow lifted higher.

Aziraphale let out a huff of breath. "If you _must_ know, I'm in disguise."

"I can see that," Crowley said dryly. "All the leaves were a strong indicator. The question is, why? A sudden fancy to put down roots for a while? Wanting to branch out into a new line of work?"

Aziraphale glared, but Crowley was unfazed; he'd been glowered at by trees before.[3] "I will ask you to please refrain from joking at my expense."

"Wasn't aware you were suffering, angel," Crowley drawled, making another slow circuit around his favorite nemesis. "You look in good health, for a tree. A shape which you still haven't satisfactorily explained."

"Oh--" Aziraphale's branches shook with dejection.[4] "It's my latest assignment, I'm afraid. Advisor to the king, look after the princes, ensure the most worthy one inherits the throne...the usual sort of thing. I'm sure you know how it goes."

Crowley leaned against a nearby beech. "From the other side, admittedly, but yeah, I'm familiar with the type. Would've thought you'd done enough of those to be able to sleepwalk through them, if you ever slept. What's the difficulty? Too many sons, not enough sons, lucky number three actually a girl and father too much of an arse to let her inherit?"

Aziraphale sighed, and his leaves drooped. "No, any of those would be vastly preferable. The thing is...well..." If he'd been in his usual form he would have been shuffling his feet, but roots weren't cooperative in that respect. "They're...well. To be frank, they're irritating. Extremely irritating."

Crowley raised both eyebrows this time, impressed and letting it show. For Aziraphale to have said this much about a charge under his care, they must have gone out of their way to be truly royal nuisances. What had they done, dog-eared all his books?

"They hounded their father for a year, demanding to be allowed to go travel, and eventually he granted their request--but on the condition that I go along to keep an eye on them!" Aziraphale continued, clearly aggrieved. "And they have the most appalling behaviour. The first two do nothing but drink and wench and spend money like water. They'd left their younger brother behind at first but he eventually caught up, and I'd had some hope that he might be better able to talk them into a more suitable frame of mind. But nothing doing! He made a token effort and they laughed and now he follows them around like a lost duck and I don't know what I'm to do with the three of them, I really don't."

This was more frustration than Crowley had anticipated. "Yeah, that sounds--"

"And they can't seem to accomplish _anything_ on their own, not the simplest scrap of a thing!" Aziraphale was clearly now on a roll. "They hound me for advice and services, have done for a solid year now, anything from shining their shoes to filling their pockets. They interrupt me at all hours of the day and night, during meals. Even in the bath, once!" His bark flushed with outrage.

"Shocking," Crowley drawled.[5]

Aziraphale glared. "Don't mock, it has been. And they don't listen to a word I say, of course, whatever wisdom of the ages I offer. They whine and demand and give orders and whine some more and--" He stopped abruptly and looked alarmed. "--and they're coming back this way again. Please excuse me."

At once the face melted away, and there was only a perfectly ordinary white birch standing in the middle of a perfectly ordinary forest containing no other birches whatsoever. Crowley chuckled. 

But he could hear the sound of voices approaching, and he was curious. Anything that drove Aziraphale to go so far as to shed his much-loved (if unfashionable) clothing[6] and choose another form altogether was something Crowley wanted to know about. 

He could have played the innocent passerby, but playing the innocent anything wasn't in a demon's job description. And a snake didn't seem quite appropriate just at present. Instead, Crowley concentrated, stretched his skin into feathers, lightened his bones, turned his beak of a nose into an actual beak, and within the space of only a moment had transformed into a large black crow.[7]

He winged up and hid amongst Aziraphale's branches, ignoring the rustling leaves and faint mutter of "I beg your pardon!" He'd get a better view up here, and besides, if Aziraphale wanted to play at being deciduous he'd have to expect things like birds landing on him.

No sooner had this been accomplished than three young men came walking down the forest road. Crowley fluffed up his feathers a little and settled down to watch.

They certainly looked the part of your standard three princely brothers. The first was tall and handsome, with an arrogant tilt to his head and a mouth that probably needed a crowbar to wrench it into an expression other than sneering. The second was a lesser copy of the first: not quite as tall, not quite as handsome, with an air of pride that was an approximation of his brother's rather than his own. If the first brother said "Jump," this one would say, "You heard him, now jump." As for the third...

Crowley would have groaned if birds were physically capable of it. The third brother was traditionally the most promising of the three, if you were looking for goodness. But this one didn't look like he had much to offer. About the kindest adjective that could be applied to him was 'pitiful.' Crowley, not being kind, was more inclined to think 'about as useful as a tissue during a thunderstorm.' 

He also got Aziraphale's point immediately, because the three were arguing. Loudly.

"--telling you he went this way."

"Why would he go this way?"

"How should I know? I'm just saying he did."

"Well, we'd better find him. You know what Father said--"

"Yes, I know what Father said, I was there--"

"I wasn't," said the youngest brother. The other two ignored him.

"All we have to do is get him back to the inn and soften him up with some jam or something, you know what he's like--"

"I like jam," said the youngest brother wistfully. "And toast. Could do with some now." The tree branches sighed a little around Crowley, as though thinking longingly of toast and jam. And tea, most likely. Or brandy.

"--and then when we've softened him up we'll make him write us up a list of eligible princesses and that will be that. Once we're married, Father will have to let us return, and abdicate in our favor to boot--"

"It's true he's getting rather old, he'd probably be relieved to be off the throne--"

"Crowns seem like they'd be heavy--" muttered the youngest.

Crowley was strongly reminded of the times he'd been forced to kill time [8] hanging around the commissary in Hell listening to lesser imps coming up with doomed plans to rise in the ranks. He was reluctantly impressed; these three were expert whingers, with exactly the right tonality to their complaints to grate on the ears like claws on a chalkboard. Humans were natural complainers, but even by those standards these three had a gift, not least in how they seemed to work in tandem.

And they wanted princesses. Aziraphale hadn't mentioned that. The idea had...potential.

"--hardly matters what princess really, any will do so long as she smiles prettily and has a decent dowry--"

"I'm sure you could impress any princess you chose--"

"I wonder if a princess would listen to me?" the youngest sighed. 

Crowley cawed, loud and raucous enough to interrupt even this extended diatribe. He hopped to the end of his branch. "Oi!" The two older princes ignored him, though the youngest looked around, confused. Crowley shifted his weight on the branch, shaking it enough that some of the leaves fell. [9] "I said, _oi!_ "

"...did you hear that?"

"I'm sure I did, but I don't see--"

"It's the crow." The youngest pointed upwards, and the other two looked up.

Crowley hopped forward on the branch. "Did I hear you say you were looking for princesses?"

The three brothers stared for a moment.

The middle brother blinked. "...It spoke."

The oldest brother sniffed derisively. "Ridiculous. Birds don't talk."

"Parrots do," said the youngest thoughtfully. "I heard that--"

Aziraphale's desire to hide as a tree was making more and more sense by the minute. "Only, if you _are_ looking for princesses, I know where you can find some," Crowley interrupted. He preened his wing, attempting to look suave and uninterested. [10]

The eldest waved a hand with dismissive disdain. "What would an overgrown bird know about princesses?" 

Crowley shook his feathers out again. "Oh, just that there are three of them in a castle not far from here." He tilted his head nonchalantly. "Lovely girls. Under a dreadful curse. Anyone who can free them wins their hand in marriage and lots of riches." Aziraphale-the-tree shook his branches again, clearly a silent _Crowley, what in Heaven are you playing at?_ which Crowley ignored. "Should be child's play for three fine young men like yourself. Just the sort of thing to impress a father who doesn't understand how worthy you are."

Now he had all their full attention. He was tempted to caw with triumph, but it might have given the game away. [11]

The two older brothers looked at each other, then back up. "Wealthy, you say?" the middle one said.

"Very."

"And lovely," mused the eldest.

"Long blonde hair, melting blue eyes, all that."

"What was that about a curse?" the youngest asked in a nervous tone.

Crowley tried to shrug, then realized he couldn't. [12] "Just a little bit of a thing. Shouldn't be hard to break, not for brave, clever lads like you. And I'm sure they'd be awfully grateful to be rescued."

The three brothers looked at each other. Actually the older two looked at each other. The youngest one gulped and looked at his feet. Finally the eldest nodded, and the middle one looked up, tried to sneer, and demanded, "Tell us the way, bird!"

Crowley pointed a wing in the correct direction, which happened to be the same one he'd arrived from. "Half a day's walk down that path over there, you can't miss it."

The eldest brother turned and began walking that way at once; the middle one nodded and then followed him. The youngest looked a bit pale, but muttered "Thank you, I think," before following afterwards.

As soon as they were out of sight he laughed so much he nearly fell off his perch. "Oh, this is _perfect_ , this is going to be so good--"

"I'm pleased you're so happy, though I confess I can't for the life of me understand why." Aziraphale's face reappeared. He looked distinctly irritated. "What on earth have you done, you wily serpent? What's this rigamarole about a curse?"

"It's not rigamarole. Well, not entirely. That's what's so great." Crowley hopped about some more; one of Aziraphale's smaller branches dipped down as though to thwack him in the head, but he ducked. "Easy, Aziraphale, let me explain!"

"I'm _waiting_ for your explanation, you--"

Crowley pecked at the branch he was standing on--lightly, but enough to make Aziraphale subside. "Didn't ask what I was doing in the area, did you, angel?" It was difficult to smirk with a beak, but he managed it. "Got roped in to help a co-worker set up a few curses. Some charming human decided he wanted to be a wealthy lord and his soul wasn't too high a price to pay, yadda yadda, you know the drill." Humans. So predictable sometimes. "He didn't read the fine print carefully enough, though. So now there's a castle back there that didn't exist a few weeks ago, but he's off burning in Hell and won't be enjoying it. _And_ \--" he continued quickly, before Aziraphale could interrupt, "he had daughters. Three of them. Wasn't above selling their souls as well, as part of the deal. So before you twit me, there really are three cursed maidens in need of a rescue, and we have a lovely chance to kill two birds with one stone here." He stopped and shook his head abruptly. "...Poor choice of words there, forget that bit."

Aziraphale now looked less angry and more confused. "But are they princesses?"

"Ehhhhhh...close enough?" Crowley shrugged. [13] "They're pretty, helpless maids in dire distress who'll inherit all their father's wealth if they're rescued, and it'll make a terrific story. You really think anyone is going to care about their exact rank?"

"Well..."

" _And_ ," Crowley interrupted again," if it works, you'll have succeeded at your mission and won't have to deal with those three ever again."

There was a long moment of silence. The tree sighed. "You are persuasive, my dear, I confess it."

"Famed for it." Crowley leaned in a bit. "So what do you say, angel?

Aziraphale frowned, thinking. "If I understand you correctly, you're suggesting that we help them break this curse, am I correct? And then everyone gets married and lives happily ever after?"

"That's the idea. Traditional ending, the powers Above are happy, you and I get to bugger off to somewhere else and hopefully get well drunk before our bosses land us with more work to do. I know all about the curses that were set, so it should be a cinch."

"Hmm." The branch swayed a little. "And what do you get out of it?"

Crowley turned his head. "Oh, my motivation is strictly personal and selfish. Malphas is an arse and I want to ruin all his hard work without it being obvious. Couldn't do it on my own, I'd get kicked into the Pit for interfering."

Aziraphale was still frowning. "That's not your only reason. No, don't deny it, foul fiend, I can tell when you're prevaricating! What's the rest?"

Bless it. Crowley looked down and shifted from foot to foot. Claw to claw? Whatever. "Well...not 'xactly fair on the daughters, is it," he muttered eventually. "They didn't ask to get dragged into all this. And now they're stuck because of a deal their idiot parent botched."

Aziraphale's sudden smile lit up the forest. [14] "You soft old snake."

Crowley ignored this insult and scratched under his wing with his beak, looking for grubs or something to munch on. [15]

Aziraphale's leaves shivered happily. "Very well then, I agree. Now do hop off my branch, my dear. It will be most awkward if I change back to my usual self while you're there, and we clearly have some planning to do if we're to succeed at this."

  


[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/ashfae/50908109763/in/dateposted-public/)

  


### Footnotes

1. Quite literally blessed.↩

2. Not a euphamism; Aziraphale only had wood at the time in a nice and accurate sense.↩

3. Don't ask.↩

4. After several thousand years Crowley was very familiar with Aziraphale's body language, no matter what body his was in. Dejected shaking branches looked very different from, say, nervous shaking branches or angry shaking branches.↩

5. And if he had a sudden image of a somewhat less treelike Aziraphale lounging in a bathtub, complete with drops of water running down all that angelic skin and a dreamy smile on his face, that was no one's business but Crowley's own.↩

6. This wasn't the shedding of clothing Crowley might have secretly hoped for, but it still counted for something.↩

7. Quite large, with yellow eyes and an odd red sheen to some of its feathers. In fact he was almost as out of place in the forest as a lone white birch was, not that he would have admitted it.↩

8. Crowley didn't like killing time and would have much preferred to put it into a pocket dimension and save for another occassion. You could never tell when a few extra minutes might come in handy. Demons were expected to kill things, though, and if he had to kill something time was preferable to most alternatives.↩

9. Aziraphale considered this extremely rude. He was rather proud of how his leaves had turned out, particularly as a first attempt.↩

10. In a bird-ish way.↩

11. Also, it'd sound ludicrous. It was impossible to caw and be taken seriously. Aziraphale wasn't the only one with standards.↩

12. Birds being somewhat lacking in the shoulder department.↩

13. It turned out better than his first attempt, though not by much.↩

14. Not literally, though it was warm enough to border becoming a fire hazard.↩

15. And absolutely not because he was in any way embarassed and trying to hide it. Not even a little bit. Demon's honor.↩ [16]

16. Which, of course, doesn't exist.↩

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Fyre, who has a gift for saying the right things to puncture through my myriad muddled ideas and help me find the trick that will make the whole story work. Many thanks also to Dashicra1 for beta-reading and catching all my embarassing typos. And thanks most of all to Fox for the initial sketch and story idea, which immediately sang out "This one! Pick this one!!" to me. It's been a delight talking about the brothers Grimm and collaborating on this story and I'm psyched for the rest. =) 
> 
> I'm a slow writer with a busy real life but I will try hard to manage a chapter every two weeks. The whole story is outlined in detail and I know everything that's going to happen, so here's hoping. =)


End file.
